


Don't Call Captain America Dad

by Eudoxia



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Crime Fighting, Gen, M/M, Overprotective Parents, SteveTonyFest on tumbler, Superfamily, Superhusbands, accidentally outing yourself, everyone is stupid, me too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-01
Packaged: 2018-02-06 23:55:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1877253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eudoxia/pseuds/Eudoxia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter accidentally tells his parents he's Spider-man. And now he has to deal with his stupid parents being stupid. And overprotective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Call Captain America Dad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marauder_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marauder_Girl/gifts).



Peter was in trouble. No, he was worse than “in trouble”. He was screwed. He was _completely_ screwed. No, he was fucked. He was fucked sideways all the way into next _year_. Maybe into the next _decade_. Probably into the next _century_. And all because he forgot he was suited up. Of course, Spider-Man has only been around for about three months. His parents had been his parents for about fifteen years now (since they did adopt him when he was four). Comparatively, it was perfectly acceptable that he slip up and call his dad “Dad”. It just would have been preferable if it wasn’t in the middle of some Doom Bot attack where he would have felt guilty for running away.

 

“ _What_ did you just call me?”

 

“Uh… Daaaadeeeeeeeo? Daddy-O?” Even Peter had to admit that was just…. Lame. Super lame. More than super lame, _ultra lame._ He probably should have just stayed quiet.

 

Capitan America took an ominous, gravel crunching step closer, “ _Peter._ ”

 

He _really_ should have just stayed quiet.

 

“What? No! Pfft! I don’t know anyone named Peter.” Peter tried to back pedal but he was pretty sure from the look on his dad’s face that his bike had lost its chain long ago. And maybe the seat. And the handle bars. Really, he was just on a screaming metal death trap now. He was sure of it. He may be nineteen but his parents _would_ still ground him into the next millennium. JARVIS would give them hourly updates (especially if his Pops was mad enough). It had happened before. And that was for some street racing when he was trying to impress MJ. But now he was trying to be a superhero (and occasionally got his ass handed to him on a silver platter) and he would be grounded until his own death. Pops would reprogram JARVIS to make sure he never left the tower again.

 

Luckily for Peter, an explosion nearly bowled them over and his dad merely pointed a finger at him and said, “This is _not_ over, Peter,” rather darkly, before running off to subdue more pain-in-the-ass bots.

 

Peter, not being a member of S.H.I.E.L.D, made it back to the penthouse first. He stripped the suit, hopped in the shower, and prayed to Thor that his parents would forget he ever called Captain America “Dad” in the middle of a fucking battle. He’d been so good! He’d told them all the late nights were studying and all the bruises were rough housing with his friends. He managed to hide the fact he could climb walls and had the whole super human strength thing. His fathers didn’t know he’d started working out in Dad’s gym with all the super duty equipment. They didn’t know he’d used Bruce’s lab to make his web shooters.

 

“They didn’t knooooow,” Peter whined, flopping into his bed, still naked from his shower. “Everything was going so weeeeell!”

 

Peter muffled his pained groans into his pillow. Maybe if he paid the Professor enough he’d just erase the little slip up from his parent’s minds.“Pfft, I’d have better luck convincing Magneto to pole dance than to get Professor X to do something that unethical. ‘You must learn to take responcibily for your actions, blah, blah blah.’ Uhg! JARVIS! Warn me when Dad and Pops get home, will you?”

 

“Of course, Peter.” JARVIS replied, cool as a cucumber. “Might I suggest putting on some clothes _before_ they arrive this time?”

 

Peter groaned in a put upon way but still flopped out of bed to grab some boxers and sweat pants. “You had to remind me of last time, didn’t you?”

 

JARVIS remained quiet.

 

“Fucking fuck…” Peter muttered to himself thinking of the last time his parents had caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He had been seventeen and had lost his virginity just an hour before when his parents came home early. He’d been halfway into his sweats while mistakenly wearing MJ’s pink and white panties when his door opened and his Dad and Pops were mid-sentence in asking if he’d had dinner yet.

 

Pops still hasn’t let him live it down. He’d thought it was hilarious.

 

“And neither has JARVIS apparently,” he muttered darkly.

 

“Your fathers have just entered the elevator, Peter.”

 

“Uhg, great.” Peter decided to throw on a plain black tee and meet his parents in the living room, rather than have this conversation on his bed (like the last one had been).

 

Peter fidgeted with the ripped seam on his shirt and shifted from one foot to the other. He picked at the dead skin on his bottom lip with his teeth. He tried to crack his neck and shake out his shoulders. Nothing helped.

 

‘ _I’m so fucked,_ ’ he thought. ‘ _I probably have my stupid “guilt face” on and everything. They’re gonna kill me._ ’

 

The elevator slid open with a small ‘ _ping!_ ’

 

Steve looked furious.

 

Even worse, _Tony_ looked furious.

 

‘ _I’ll never be able to leave the penthouse again. They’ll just tell everyone that I have some disease or they’ll break my legs or tie me to chair for the rest of my life. I’ll have to grow my hair long and change my name to_ He _punzel in order to meet anyone. Oh god, only Pops makes that pun. Oh_ fuck.’

 

“Peter,” Steve stalked across the room, his face set in a glare worse than when Uncle Bucky took him on the Tilt-A-Whorl when Peter was eight and he threw up for the next three hours.

 

Peter did the wise thing and raised his hands in surrender. “I can explain?”

 

“No. You can’t.” But instead of Steve punishing him or yelling or making him take care of Clint’s dishes for a week, his dad pulled him into a tight hug. Peter was sure he heard a few vertebrae pop.

 

“Dad?” he wheezed.

 

“Peter Benjamin Parker-Rogers-Stark! You. Are. An. Idiot,” Steve punctuated each word with squeeze of his arms.

 

Suddenly, Peter was out of his Dad’s arms and straight into his Pop’s.

 

Tony continued, “You’re also the most brilliant person we’ve ever met—”

 

“But don’t for a second think we aren’t furious. We’re just glad you’re okay right now, Peter.”

 

“What were you thinking? Trying to be superhero?” Tony pulled back and held his son at arm’s length. “There’s a lot more to it than just a fancy suit and some witty comebacks, Peter. Trust me, I know.”

 

“I know, Pop, Dad.” Peter glanced between his parents, trying to gauge just how angry and upset and worried he’d made them. It looked like a lot. More than a lot. Probably… something more than a lot. A ton. Probably a ton. “I just… I wanted to be like you guys. Make a difference, help people. Stop bullies,” Peter gave a one shouldered shrug.

 

“Peter.”

 

Peter glanced at his Dad and then back at his bare feet. “Yeah?”

 

“You’re an adult. If this is what you really want to do, then we can help you.”

 

Peter was a fair bit beyond shocked. Most likely past flabbergasted, too. “What?” He stuttered, “I thought—I thought you’d be, like, really mad. Like, ground me forever mad?”

 

“Oh, we are,” Tony said, moving to sit on the couch. Steve pulled Peter to sit down between them, like they used to when he was little and they needed to have family meetings. “But your Dad and I talked about it on the way over here from HQ and we’ve decided that if this is something that you really, _really_ want to do, then we’ll help you do it. I can help you with your web shooters and make you light weight armor for the suit or maybe add arm glider things to it. What are those called, honey? Anyway, you’re not saying no to me looking at those web shooters. They’ve malfunctioned before and I swear to God and Odin and all that is holy if it happens again you _will_ be grounded for the rest of five-ever.”

 

Peter winced, “Pops, did you really—?”

 

But Steve cut in, “What Tony is trying to say, son, is that we can coach you. Or train you. Your reflexes are amazing and we, your pops and I, were thinking I could teach you some of my hand to hand and defense. We can use my gym, really test your limits. Get you a com-link so you can always reach us or JARVIS if you need to. We just want you to be safe and smart about how you approach being a superhero.”

 

“And!” Tony wrapped an arm around Peter and knocked him into his side. “It is _so cool_ you can climb walls. Like, _super_ cool—no, _ultra_ cool. My son, the Man Spider.” Tony wiped at a fake tear.

 

“Poooops! It’s _Spider-Man_.”

 

But Tony just smirked and ruffled Peter’s hair before planting a big, sloppy kiss to his son’s cheek.

 

“ _Pooooops!_ ”

 

And then Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to Peter’s temple on the other side.

 

“By the way,” his Dad said, “you’re grounded for a month for not telling us.”

 

“Awwww! Daaaaad!” But a steady glare (from both sides) had Peter pursing his lips and saying, “ _fine_. I guess I deserve that one.”

 

“Sure do!” Tony said, patting Peter’s knee before hopping up and heading to the kitchen. “I’m making popcorn! Want to watch a movie?”

 

“Okay,” both Peter and Steve yelled back.

 

Peter stared at his hands and wondered if Pops would ban him from helping in the lab like last time he was grounded.

 

“Peter.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Steve’s face soft but pinched with just a bit of worry. “You know your Pops and I love you, right? We just want to keep you safe and happy.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

“And we’d understand if you needed to save a kitten from a tree or something while you’re grounded, right?”

 

A small smile played over Peter’s face. “So this is more of a ‘grounding-in-name’ and not a real grounding?”

 

“No. It’s still a real grounding, Peter. No cars, no lab, if you want to go anywhere you either take the bus or walk, no friends over after ten, and curfew is eleven P.M. You can apply for parole after a week with good behavior.”

 

Peter gave a little laugh, “Okay, that’s not as bad as when I accidentally blew up Pops’ lab.”

 

“It was only half of my lab. But Dummy didn’t let go of that fire extinguisher for six months afterwards.” Tony slipped back into his seat, propped his feet on the coffee table and offered them one of the bowls of popcorn.

 

“Gee, thanks, Pops, so reassuring.”

 

Tony stuck his tongue out, “Nnnng.”

 

“Mature there, _Paw_.”

 

“ _Boys_ ,” Steve warned.

 

Both men gave mumbled apologies.

 

The family spent the rest of the night arguing and cuddling and generally messing with each other (more Tony and Peter than anything else), but all in all, Peter figured, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be; accidentally telling his parents he was Spider-Man by calling Captain America ‘Dad’ in the middle of a battle. It could have gone worse sure, but it went a hell of a lot better than Peter thought it would. Better than ‘a hell of a lot’ actually. Probably _tremendously_ better. After all, his parents offered to support him in fighting crime. How many people could say that?

 

Evidently, _not_ Peter.

 

Just three days later, while Peter was rescuing a few children from a burning building, one of the exterior walls blew out in what was obviously a repulsor blast. Of course, Peter (nor anyone else for that matter) caught of glimpse of the red and gold armor but really? It was pretty damn obvious. Peter had only grown up with Iron Man. Afterwards; Peter bit his tongue about it because, technically, he was still grounded

 

But then it happened again, six days later.

 

Cap’s shield flew out of nowhere, hit the bad guy in the back and ricocheted away.

 

“Dad?” Peter growled into his ear piece but neither parent responded.

 

And so it continued, rescue after rescue, some element of his parent’s interfering. And Peter put up with it. Until his grounding was over, then Peter flipped his shit.

 

“Dad! Pops! What the holy fucking hell?” Peter ripped his mask off, stormed across the balcony of Stark Tower, and marched into the living room.

 

His fathers were sitting on the couch, trying to act nonchalant but both were slightly sweaty and red faced. The fact they were watching _The Big Bang Theory_ gave them away.

 

“Peter!” Tony tried, “Didn’t see you go out. Having fun superheroing?”

 

Peter’s fists clenched. “ _Maybe_.” He ground his teeth together, “I’d probably have more fun if I wasn’t being _babysat_ the entire time! Jesus, guys! You said that I could do this! Stop following me everywhere and shooting the repulsors or throwing the shield when I’m busying fighting _bad guys_! I can _do this_! You’re gonna make them think I’m _weak_ or something! Or they’ll put it together that Spider-man is Peter Parker-Rogers-Stark! I can _do this_ , guys! You have to let me do this. _Alone_. No shadow. No ‘oh, hey spidey, didn’t see ya there, but I was in the _neighborhood_ and figured I’d lend a hand,’ _Pops_! No _‘hats and glasses’_ on a street corner because, let me tell you, that is _not_ a disguise. It is a fucking red flag, _Dad_. And _need I remind you_ , I am nineteen! I am an adult! I can do this with or without your approval. And if you were hoping to say that you’ve been here all night watching tv, that is a _fucking lie_ because you _hate_ _The Big Bang Theory_ with a passion, Pops.”

 

Peter’s two parents stared at him, wide eyed, for nearly a minute before either found a few words to say.

 

“We thought you didn’t notice.”

 

Peter was going to cry. He was going to cry and wish for new, smarter parents for Christmas. And Chanukah. And New Year’s.

 

 “How was I supposed to _not notice_? My opponents start dropping cold next to me? ‘ _Oh, must be a new super power, wheee!’_ Are you guys mentally damaged? Of course I fucking noticed! Now stop it! I can handle myself! I am _not_ a _child_ anymore!”

 

Before Tony or Steve could respond, Peter stormed off to his room. It was maybe an hour later before his parents knocked on his door.

 

“Peter?” Steve asked, poking his head in, “can we talk for a minute?”

 

And Peter, who was lying on his bed with his back toward the door, merely shrugged.

 

“Look, Peter, we… we love you. You know that. And we worry. Like that time you got lost at the zoo.”

 

“You _forgot_ me at the zoo, Pops. That’s why Dad never let us go just the two of us ever again.”

 

Steve muttered, “He has a point, Tony,” but Tony elbowed his husband in the side.

 

“Not the point.” Tony said as he sat on Peter’s desk chair and Steve moved to sit at the foot of the bed. “The point is: we love you. And we _know_ you can fight for yourself. But we also want to know your safe.”

 

Steve cut in, “We’ll try to stop interfering, alright. But we can’t guarantee that we won’t step in to save you if we feel you’ll need it, okay?”

 

Peter looked between the two, mulling the words over. “Okay,” he said slowly, “okay, just, ya know, back up a bit. Cut the cord, to say…. And I love you guys, too. You know that.”

 

And Peter sat up to hug both his fathers. It seemed like they’d back up and let him fight his own fights. Which was good. And actually, that’s exactly what they did. Peter didn’t see either parent while he was out crime fight for a whole three months. Not until he was fighting some sort of giant insect thing, whipping around to hit another one when he caught sight of Mjolnir colliding into its head.

 

 _‘Fuck,’_ Peter thought, _‘if this is how it is when I’m crime fighting, how bad is it gonna be when I finally bring Wade home?’_

**Author's Note:**

> only about half beta'd. and maybe a bit rushed. i hope you liked it!


End file.
